


Never Saw You Coming

by Vague_Shadows



Series: The Family Business [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek POV, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Stiles POV, oblivious boys, slow build to long-term sterek throughout series, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vague_Shadows/pseuds/Vague_Shadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of timestamps showing the progression of Stiles & Derek’s friendship spanning the ten months between Parts 2 and 4.  </p><p>AKA the part of the series in which Sterek becomes an actual thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is going to be a series of timestamps to span the time from where part 2 ends (just before jr year for the betas) and where part 4 begins (sometime during the summer after their junior year and the summer Dean Winchester spends in hell)
> 
> These are mainly some character development things I worked on and decided to share rather than just skipping ten months to the next big conflict. Hope you enjoy them, but if they're not your thing, disregard and resume with part 4 :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occurs a month or so after Part 2 ends (September)

 

Stiles parks his Jeep, grabs the Oreos and milk he picked up on the way, and heads up to the house.  Isaac’s at Scott’s so he assumes Derek is the only one home—it’s kind of the whole reason he’s here.  He bursts in the front door in his typical style.

“Yo, Sourwolf,” he calls through the house. “Can I crash here tonight? I brought food.”

He steps into the kitchen and freezes.  A pan has been thrown across the kitchen; its contents splattered across the floor. Derek’s sitting against the cabinets next to the stove, head in his hands, gasping for air with his heart rate through the roof. 

The asthma attack fake-out won’t work on Derek, so Stiles elects for option B, which is mimicking what his dad’s always done when Stiles freaks.  Stiles moves without conscious thought.  He drops to the floor next to Derek, one hand gripping Derek’s shoulder as his other brings Derek’s hand to his own chest.

“Hey, Derek,” he says. “Breathe with me. You’re okay.  Come on. Just focus.  Focus on my breathing, okay? Match it.”

He takes unnecessarily deep breaths, hoping this works for Derek the way it does for him.  Derek doesn’t push him away, so he takes that as a good sign at least.  It’s another minute or so before the attack begins to recede.  It’s a full five before Derek’s calmed enough to get his heart rate near normal and his breathing even—though still a little shaky.  Stiles isn’t sure if he should let go now; he loosens his grip on Derek’s shoulder slightly, but Derek closes the hand resting on Stiles’ chest to grab his shirt.

“Wait.” 

“Yeah, sure. Sorry,” Stiles replies quickly.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Ten minutes later Derek’s back on his feet.  He’s helping Stiles clean the mess of food strewn across the floor and trying really fucking hard not to seem embarrassed about the fact that he just had a total meltdown.  He hasn’t had a panic attack in months—not since they flared up for a while just after Laura died—and nobody’s ever seen him freak like that but her.  At least it was Stiles who walked in on it; Stiles knows what they’re like and what to do to help instead of just freaking out and making it worse.  Stiles isn’t going to give him shit for this later.

Neither of them speaks until Derek wonders aloud, “What did you come over here for anyway?”

“My dad works tonight,” Stiles replies, “Didn’t want to be at the house by myself.”

It’s not a lie, but there’s still a hole in the logic.

“Your dad works nights all the time.  Why’d you really come over here?” Derek persists.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Fine. I won’t. Answer the question.”

“I knew Isaac was staying at Scott’s, and I didn’t think you should have to be alone on her birthday because I’m a big sap, okay?” 

Derek’s looks over at Stiles in surprise.  Stiles looks honestly embarrassed, which Derek doesn’t quite understand.     

“How do you know it’s Laura’s birthday?”

“It’s the Wi-Fi password.  You had to know not telling me what the numbers meant was the quickest way to get me to figure it out.” Stiles devotes his attention back to the task at hand.  “Dad worked on mom’s birthday last year for the first time since she died.  I told him I’d be fine—I was mostly—but it still royally sucked. Scott stayed over to get my mind off it.  I thought maybe you could use a distraction, and I’m usually pretty good at those.” 

 _Yeah, maybe he’s kind of a sap, but he’s right,_ Laura agrees, and Derek wishes vehemently that her residual presence would give it a rest—if just for today.

"Yeah, it does suck,” Derek agrees.

“So you took it out on the—” Stiles examines the mess they’re cleaning, “chicken something-or-other?”

“Chicken marsala,” Derek replies a little bashfully.

“Dude, you’ve been holding out on us! Why d’you always get Chinese take-out for pack dinner if you can actually cook?”

Derek shrugs.  “I don’t really like cooking. I just know a couple random things.”  He hesitates a moment before explaining, “Laura used to get really mad that she could never make it as well as my dad could.  He never gave her an exact recipe; he just said he added the spices until it ‘seemed right’.” _I mean really, what the hell kind of recipe is that?!_ Laura demands.  Derek can’t help smiling a little as he adds, “she got so pissed when I got it right on my first try.”   

“So you’d make it for her birthday?” Stiles guesses.

Derek nods.  He’d indulged in sentimentality for a night, thinking he’d make it again this year, keep some part of the tradition alive.  Except hecouldn’t for the life of him get it right this time.

“We still make a strawberry cake on Mom’s birthday,” Stiles confides. “Strawberry with chocolate icing—nothing fancy, just the store-bought mix and stuff—because it’s what she always asked for.”

A heavy silence falls between them.  Normally, Derek would think they were a pretty pitiful pair at the moment, sitting in the kitchen swapping stories of loss. This is the type of pity party that would usually send him down to the weight room in the basement to channel all this emotional bullshit into beating the hell out of a punching bag or two.  He just doesn’t seem to be able to muster the energy for it tonight though—and luckily Stiles doesn’t seem to mind the momentary indulgence in nostalgia.

“Okay. Moving on,” Stiles says, cutting through the glum mood as he tosses the rag he’s been using into the sink.  “Would you rather me kick your ass at Mario Kart or Black Ops?” he asks with a confident grin.

           

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading! :) Hope you enjoy these random bits of Sterek building.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes place about four months after last chapter (January(ish))

 

The howl of an omega not far from the house has Stiles and Derek out the door and on the move as fast as possible.  They move as a unit through the woods—moments of action the one time the duo doesn’t have to think about working in sync.  Ever since Stiles developed his skills with the magic into a viable weapon, they’ve been perfecting the best way to use it in battle scenarios.  By far, pairing with Derek and having the alpha hold the physical onslaught at bay so that Stiles can fully focus on his magical offense is the most effective use of Stiles’ spark.  Countless hours of training later, the two aren’t exactly unstoppable, but they’re still damn good.

“It’s not moving,” Stiles comments.   “Why isn’t it moving? It should hear us by now.”

“Something’s not right,” Derek agrees.

He catches the arrow that would’ve pierced Stiles thigh just before he takes one to his own calf with a grunt of pain. 

“Run!” Derek commands _._

 Stiles takes off as two more arrows whiz past, thankfully missing their marks.  Stiles weaves through the woods. He’s faster than your average human, but he’s no alpha. He still needs to be a difficult target.  Derek runs behind him, blocking for Stiles. Stiles hears two arrows find their mark in Derek’s flesh, and anger mixes with adrenaline as he runs.

“Cut around behind them,” Stiles suggests. “Pick a couple off. I can hold my own for a minute.”

Derek hesitates for just a moment before cutting hard to the right. The hunters shout back and forth, deciding which of them will follow which quarry. Stiles hears another arrow coming and ducks behind a tree just in time.  He’s on the move again with barely a pause, grateful now for months of conditioning no matter how much he might’ve bitched during training.  He hears two more arrows go by, but isn’t prepared for the flash of the flare on the second.  Momentarily blinded, he stumbles. The next arrow finds a home in his arm, pinning him to the tree.  There’s just one of them coming. The second arrow goes into his side, piercing through his body armor, and he can’t stop the cry that escapes him.

            “Human!” he tells the hunter. “Stop, I’m human.”

The hunter laughs, pulling back his bow for another shot. “Wasn’t born yesterday, kid. No way you can run like that if you’re human.  You might be a shitty excuse for a werewolf, but you’re a monster all the same.”

"Stiles!”

Derek’s sprinting toward him, as the third arrow sinks into Stiles’ leg.  Derek growls furiously and continues to quickly close the gap to Stiles despite the fact that he’s still taking arrows from a second hunter behind him.

“It got Mark!” the second hunter shouts. “Use the gun! Kill the fucker!”

As the hunter reaches for his belt to obey the request, Stiles closes his eyes to try and focus on stirring up enough leaves to block the hunters’ vision and prevent them from making any shots. Instead, he feels a sudden surge of wind and shortly after hears the sound of two bodies being flung back and bones cracking.  His eyes fly open, but he can’t see what’s happened because he and Derek stand in the calm center of a powerful whirlwind. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathes, mouth falling open.   He immediately feels the drain that comes with using too much of the magic.  “I can’t keep it going,” he admits as Derek approaches.

“It’s okay. You can stop,” Derek says, standing at the ready in front of Stiles.

The wind ceases and the leaves and twigs caught in the whirlwind fall to the ground.  As it settles, Stiles can make out the shapes of the two hunters crumpled on the forest floor. They seem to have flown back a good ten feet or more, stopped by the trees they collided with. Neither stirs.

Derek steps forward cautiously, moving to check both of them.  He turns back to Stiles.

“They’re dead. We’re safe for now. You need a hospital.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes, and you need a hospital,” Derek repeats, moving forward to assess Stiles’ wounds.

"You’re not looking so good yourself,” Stiles replies.

“I’ll heal. The one in your side isn’t too deep. I thought this dragon skin shit was supposed to be—”

“Bulletproof, not _arrow_ proof, but it’s better than nothing I guess.”

“It’s too cold and you’re losing too much blood to wait for them to find you.”

“You can’t drive to the hospital with me if you’ve got eight arrow sticking out of you.”

“I’ll heal while we walk.  Hold on.”

Stiles flinches with every removed arrow. He knows they’ll heal, but they’ll hurt like a bitch while they do.  There’s two in Derek’s lower back he can’t reach easily, and Stiles has to help him. 

_This is so much worse than practice. Oh my Goooood this is so much worse._

“Thanks,” Derek says, wincing slightly as he stretches his limbs just a bit, assessing the damage.  “Scott and Isaac will be home soon.  Scott can take you if he’s back.  I’ll come back here and cover our tracks.”

He reaches for the arrow pinning Stiles to the tree. 

“You know not to pull it out all the way right? That’s only a good thing if you’re a wolf.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Just checking.”

“Shut up,” Derek replies as he pulls the arrow to free it from the tree but not Stiles’ arm.  He looks guilty when Stiles sucks in air to try and stifle a yelp of pain. “Sorry.  This is probably all gonna hurt. I’ve got to get you back to the house, and it’s faster if I carry you.”

 “I’m not a damn damsel in—”

“You’re not walking back to the house, Stiles.   Do you realize you’ve been shot three times and conjured a goddamn whirlwind?  You need to get to a fucking hospital!”

For the first time a hint of panic shows through Derek’s mask of bravado, and Stiles realizes he’s the cause.  Probably not the best time to be arguing for the sake of his pride. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

“Come on,” Derek says as he puts one hand at Stiles’ back and the other under his knees to pick him up. 

When Derek steps forward, his leg gives out just a bit, but his grip on Stiles’ never slackens.  He grits his teeth and keeps walking.   Eventually he’s able to jog.  Stiles can’t stifle the occasional pathetic whines that escape him.  He concentrates on bearing the pain, shuts his eyes to focus on something else— _anything_ else. 

The moment his eyes shut Derek asks, “You good, Stiles? You with me?”

And the tone in his voice is the one Stiles remembers from the warehouse and hasn’t heard since.  It’s the tone that says everything Derek doesn’t about how terrified he is to lose people. It’s the tone that put Stiles in an entirely different kind of pain than that inflicted by the arrows.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Stiles assures him.  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“It won’t be long back to the house,” Derek promises. “Stay awake, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

 

 

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Stiles is dozing in the ER, all stitched up with his dad in the chair in the corner.  Dad doesn’t look too worse for the wear, especially compared to last time, but he was still completely frazzled when he showed up at the hospital. 

 _This shit can’t be good for his heart,_ Stiles thinks guiltily.

Stiles returns from the edge of sleep when Derek walks in.

“Don’t look so worried, sourwolf,” Stiles tells Derek with a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.  Way better than last time. Didn’t hit anything too important.”

Derek rolls his eyes but some of the tightness in his face seems to relax a little.  He comes over to stand next to the bed, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder to leech the pain.

"You really don’t have to—”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Stiles insists, “and you’re probably still healing or just got done healing or something; I don’t need it.”

Derek ignores him and leaves his hand where it is; Stiles can’t quite bring himself to shake it off.  Pharmaceuticals have nothing on werewolf painkilling mojo.

“So what’s the latest?” the sheriff asks. 

“Isaac and I took care of things in the woods. Scott just left the station from giving his statement. Jackson found their hotel room, but no one was there. Looks like it was just the three of them.  Lydia went to talk with the Argents. It doesn’t look like we’re going to have any trouble from them, but they’ll probably want to talk.  We’re going to tell them everything was me. I don’t want them to know how strong Stiles’ magic has gotten.”

“Dude, _I_ don’t even know how strong my magic’s gotten,” Stiles replies. “I mean, I have _no_ freaking idea.  This afternoon, I couldn’t even get up enough of a breeze to ring the wind chimes on the porch. Then out of nowhere I pull this kind of power? What the hell?”

The sheriff’s phone rings.  He looks at his son apologetically. “I should take this.  I’ll be right back.”

“It’s fine, Dad. I told you I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Derek assures.

"Don’t need a babysitter!” Stiles insists again as his dad walks out the door.

Derek lets go of Stiles long enough to grab the vacated chair and pull it closer to the bed so he can plop down into it.  Then he places his hand on Stiles’ forearm to continue taking the pain.

“You seriously don’t have to do that,” Stiles repeats.  “You still don’t look like you’re at a hundred percent.”

“Would you shut the hell up and just let me help?”

They sit in silence a few minutes.  Stiles still can’t stop replaying the events of the last hours over and over again in his head.  He must really zone out because Derek notices.

“What is it?” he asks.

For a moment he considers lying.  If he responds that nothing’s on his mind, there’s about a fifty/fifty shot these days that Derek will let the lie slide.

But Derek’s really the prime candidate for this particular topic, and Stiles finds himself responding quietly, “I killed two people tonight.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Derek replies almost nonchalantly.

“I know,” he lies.

“Hey,” Derek says shaking his arm just a little, making Stiles turn to look at him.  “I mean it. They would’ve killed you—hell, they would’ve killed me too.  It’s no different than the fight with the alphas; you did the right thing; you protected yourself and your pack.” Stiles must still look dubious because he adds, “Come on, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s—”

"If you try to blame yourself, I swear I’ll punch you in the face,” Stiles interrupts, “ _especially_ if you try to use the I-shouldn’t-have-let-the-fragile-human-out-of-the-house argument.”

“Then don’t give yourself a guilt trip for defending yourself.  You’re giving Scott a run for his money in the pathetic face department.”

“Shut up,” Stiles replies, but he can’t help grinning; he’s not sure if Derek really wants to blame himself, or if he just knows that sparking an argument is the quickest way to get Stiles out of his funk. 

“You did a damn good job with your magic,” Derek compliments, a sure sign he’s been worried. 

“Yeah, silver lining I guess,” Stiles agrees, smile waning.

 “What?” Derek asks, and Stiles appreciates the question even if Derek can’t completely mask the tone of exasperation in his voice.

“I totally lost control of it out there.”

“No, you didn’t. Don’t be a moron.  If you’d lost control, you’d have thrown me back, too.  It was just more power than you’re used to.  You’ll get a handle on it.”

Given that Derek’s normally the poster boy for taking mishaps way too seriously and worrying too much, Stile can’t help commenting, “Wow, you sound awfully chill and confident about that.”

“It took you a couple weeks to get used to your wolf stuff after the alphas.  This isn’t any different. It’s all about learning your strengths and how to gauge them.  It’s an easy enough problem to fix.”

There’s no uncertainty in the words, and Stiles takes a minute from freaking out to relish that.  They’ve got a long way to go, but the pack has gotten increasingly stable over the past several months.  It wasn’t so long ago that an attack like this would’ve sent them into a panic, scattering in different directions with different groups certain only they knew the best way to react.  Instead, tonight they’d all gone into action as a unit, working together easily to ensure everything was taken care of as quickly as possible.          

“Well, Stiles, how’re we feeling?” an older nurse asks as she rounds the corner, pulling Stiles back from his moment of sentimentality over pack dynamics.

She takes in the sight of Derek so close to the bed with his hand on Stiles arm, and she frowns slightly. Stiles expects Derek to let go and scoot the chair back—they all generally keep the whole tactile bit of the wolf instincts out of the public eye because it would probably draw some unwanted attention—but Derek doesn’t move; he seems thoroughly unaffected by her disapproval and leaves his hand where it is, continuing to pull the pain. 

“You’re not allowed back here,” the nurse snaps at Derek, glaring, and, yeah okay, maybe Derek isn’t exactly seen as a saint in this town, but he doesn’t deserve the current stink-eye he’s getting from her—even if he technically isn’t allowed back here.

“Derek’s family,” the sheriff says, returning from his call, “at least as far as we’re concerned.”

“Exactly,” Stiles agrees.

The nurse doesn’t even attempt to hide the look of shock that transforms to incredulity on her face.  Derek grins smugly.

 “I’ll make an exception since Stiles is about to be sent home,” the nurse replies grudgingly, “but if you expect him to be treated as family by hospital policy, you need to put it in the paperwork.  You know the rules, Sheriff.”

“We’ll be sure to handle that, Susan.  Thank you.”

“I’m about to be sent home?” Stiles asks. 

“Yes, they’re getting the papers together now. Someone will be by shortly to give you further care instructions for your injuries.”

“Awesome!”

“I hope we make it at least a full year before your next trip back to us,” she says.  “Try to be a little more careful.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says, even though he wants to argue that neither trip to the ER was exactly due to your typical clumsy accident.  He doesn’t quite understand how she could perceive an animal attack and being shot by poachers as circumstances that occurred because he just wasn’t being careful.  He resists the urge to make his point and settle for an annoyed huff.

She leaves them, presumably to find someone to come give Stiles the all-clear. 

“So how’s the search for the ‘poachers’ going?” Stiles asks his dad.

“Seems like they can barely find a trace of them,” the sheriff says with a look to Derek, “looks like they were real pros at covering their tracks.”

“So what’re they going to do now?’ Derek asks. 

“They’re calling off the search—it’s been more than enough time for them to be long gone.  We’ll focus on following any other leads—seeing if the arrows came from a local place, they want descriptions of the men from Stiles, that kind of thing.  They want to know if I can come in and handle some other cases so that they can keep a few extra guys on this one,” he tells them, turning to Stiles’ to gauge his son’s reaction.  “I’d insist on staying with you, but since you’re stable, if I don’t seem like I’ll do whatever I can to help catch these guys—”

“I get it; don’t worry.    Go to work, dad.”

“I’ll stay until you’re discharged, and then if Derek can take you to the house, I’ll head over to the station.”

“Sure, it’s no problem.  Half the pack is probably at your place by now anyway—at the least Scott and Isaac.  They’ll look out for him until you get home.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Dude, I’m still in the room and perfectly capable of being coherent enough to be included in the conversation,” Stiles reminds them, annoyed.  “And I _don’t_ need a baby-sitter.”

He turns to Derek. “Why are Scott and Isaac stuck with wounded-human duty? What’re you going to do?”

“I told you Lydia says the Argents will probably be waiting to speak to me.”

 “You shouldn’t go to the Argents’ by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.  We’ll meet on neutral ground; Lydia’s there.”

“Take someone as backup; Isaac’ll go.”

“I’ll be—”

“Come on, Derek.  Just take him with you. You’re the one who always talks about playing it safe.  Don’t be an idiot.” _And I’ve already been pretty sure you were dying once today. I’m a little maxed out on stress,_ he wants to add but doesn’t.

Derek’s glowering and all set to argue with him but then he seems to decide against it.  His face relaxes into resignation. “Fine.  Issac’ll come as back-up.”

Stiles holds back a victorious smile. “Good.”

“You just better hope I don’t tell Lydia you didn’t think she counted as enough back-up.”

“That’s not what I said!”

Derek shrugs. “That’s what it sounded like.”

“It did not.  I just meant the more back-up the better, and Allison’s her friend so she shouldn’t have to—” Derek’s grinning, satisfied that his small retaliation has officially squashed Stiles’ momentary sense of triumph for this particular argument. “You suck,” Stiles informs him; Derek just grins even wider.

“Okay, Mr. Stilinski,” another nurse says as she walks in.  “Let’s get this paperwork taken care of so you can be on your way.”

 

********************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

 

 

 

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a draft of how they get from the woods to the hospital because I don't like loose ends, buuuuut it was incredibly boring so I cut it from the post. Sorry if the slight holes bother you. If you're bothered enough, you can ask, as always. I've got reams of headcanon for everything :P It's a sickness; it is.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading. Hope you don't mind and are enjoying my indulgence in focusing on the good semi-fluffy moments and not the fights. Sorry I'm not sorry :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes place a month or two after the hunters attacked Derek and Stiles

 

It’s weird to park his car and walk _toward_ the crowd. It’s weird to search the stands for familiar faces and find the sheriff, Melissa, and Lydia waving him over.  It’s weird to automatically smile and wave back.  It’s all just— weird.

He’d thought he might’ve acclimated to being part of a group again a little more by now.  Turns out seven years of keeping everything at arm’s length makes rejoining a community a much slower process than he anticipated.  He can fake it well enough, but it doesn’t exactly come naturally anymore.  He’s been around town with the pack enough that he’s at least stopped drawing quite so much attention—it doesn’t hurt that the sheriff endorses his son hanging around the now-exonerated-but-once-alleged-felon—and he’s getting more and more accustomed to just being ‘that poor Hale boy who lost his family’ again.  As much as he hates it, it’s better for the pack if he’s seen as the latter.

“Hey, Derek,” Lydia greets.  “I brought an extra sign for you.”

Derek frowns at her.  “I’m not holding up a—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Practically half the team is your pack. Show some support.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Take it,” Lydia insists, shoving the piece of poster board at him.  “It’s not even that big. You can deal with it.”

It’s an 11x17 bit of white poster board reading ‘Go Beacon Hills!’ in handwriting far too neat and girly and covered in—

“ _Glitter?!_ ”

“It gives it pizazz,” she insists. “Don’t be a Sourwolf,” she adds in a hiss.

One day, he’s going to figure out how to pay Stiles back for getting that nickname started.   

He glances down at the ridiculous poster again.  Yeah, no way in hell will Derek Hale be caught dead holding that.  He takes it from Lydia and puts it at his feet, making a mental note to burn the damn thing once the game is over.

 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“Starters to the field!” the ref calls, and Stiles sits sullenly on the bench as Scott, Isaac, Danny, and Jackson jog out with the rest of the first string for Beacon Hills. 

This is supposed to be Stiles’ year. He has werewolf powers of his own now.  There’s no real reason he can’t be out there starting with the rest of them.  The problem of course is that he’s healed more quickly with a higher pain tolerance than any human should be able to after being shot three times with hunting arrows.  The team’s already getting random drug tests for steroids after the several questionable miracle plays from the games last season.  They’ve all come back negative of course, but with that kind of suspicion already in place Derek’s been adamant that Stiles not add a miraculous recovery to the mix.

He turns to look up at the stands. Lydia’s got a sign supporting all five of her packmates’ jersey numbers, though Jackson’s is of course largest and in the center.  Ms. McCall has her usual mixed look of pride and worry on her face—despite the fact she now knows it’s nearly impossible for her son tobe permanently hurt in a game.  His dad sits next to her smiling and clapping supportively as the team takes the field.  The best sight of all is Derek’s stubbornly stoic face and the sign at his feet Lydia no doubt shoved on him.  He’s got that look he still sometimes gets in big crowds, the one that gives Stiles the impression that while he’s outwardly unaffected he’s inwardly preparing to bolt at the slightest provocation.     

Stiles glances back every few minutes because he honestly finds the slow process of Derek easing in as part of the sea of fans just as amusing as the game itself.  Lydia tries a few times to get Derek to hold up the sign, but Stiles is pretty sure hell will freeze over first.  Derek is relaxing a bit as the game goes on though, and by the second quarter, he’s got a fairly permanent smile playing at the corners of his lips.  In the third quarter, when Jackson scores, he jumps to his feet with the other three whooping and clapping as fervently as the rest of them.  There’s an encore performance when Scott scores a few minutes later.

_Would you look at that? Not such a total sourwolf these days._

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

The game ends and naturally Beacon Hills comes out as the victor.  The final score is a respectable 2-3.  Derek’s given them specific directions not to let wolf talent get the team more than two points ahead in any game.  It’s bad enough that the other teams don’t stand a chance; no need to embarrass them. 

It’s hard to feel too guilty about their unfair advantage with the team celebrating down on the field.  Besides, his betas have worked hard to be sure they can always maintain control during games. They’ve made sure to work on plays together, and Finstock’s been thrilled with how easily they all work as a unit.  They deserve normal things like the rush of winning a game.

On the way out of the stands, Derek and Lydia’s phones beep simultaneously.  It’s a text from Scott.

“Victory party @ Greenburg’s place!!!!!”

 _Yeah, ‘cause me showing up at a party full of high-schoolers wouldn’t make me the old creepy guy at all,_ Derek thinks with a roll of his eyes.

It’s nice to be automatically included though—for a while there they’d all been figuring out the awkward balance of where Alpha-Derek ended and Friend-Derek began.  Most days he thinks they’ve managed to get a pretty good handle on that.

Lydia hurries off to catch a ride to the party with Jackson.  Derek parts ways with the sheriff and Melissa when they reach the parking lot.  He’s almost to his car when Stiles calls, “Hey, Derek, can I get a ride?”

“You really expect me to go to that party?”

“No, I expect you to drive me to Minnie’s for victory burgers and milkshakes.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to endure one of Greenburg’s pathetic parties while listening to them relive a game I didn’t get to play in,” Stiles replies. 

It’s not exactly a lie; Stiles’ heartbeat doesn’t increase enough to indicate that.  It’s not a complete truth though.

“Okay,” Derek says, deciding not to call it because he selfishly doesn’t care at the moment what Stiles is holding back; he’s not going to say so, but he’d much rather hang out with Stiles than have to head home to a quiet, empty house.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **takes place a couple months or so after chapter 3 (April/May(ish))

 

“Hey, Derek, what’s up?” Stiles asks when he answers the phone.

“Are you already at Minnie’s?”

“Yeah, just sat down. What’s up?”

“I’m gonna be later than I thought. I’m not sure when I can get there.”

“Okay, how about I just grab it to-go, and I’ll meet you at the house?”

“That works.  Hey, ask Isaac about his English paper while you’re there. He was supposed to get Lydia to help him, but I haven’t checked to make sure he did.”

“I’ll ask him; he’s been good about grades though. I’m sure he took care of it.”

“Just check.”

“Sure, on the topic of grades, we all got our bio tests back today. No worries there; all As and Bs.  Ms. Larkson is a helluva lot better than dealing with Harris.”

“Good. Did you get the same flyer Isaac had for some meeting thing they’re having next week for juniors and their parents for college application advice stuff for the summer and next year? ‘Get a head start’ and all that?  Sounds like a good thing to go to.”

“Yeah, I got it.  We’ll talk about it.” The whole how-to-handle-college debacle is an ongoing conversation.

A couple months ago Stiles would have felt awkwardly like a parent at the close of a conversation like this, but it doesn’t even phase him anymore.  Somewhere along the line this became the normal ebb and flow of his life: battle plans and pack GPA and lacrosse plays and SAT study sessions and magic wielding practice.  Nothing seems too weird anymore; weird is the norm.

 “So you just want the bacon cheeseburger?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

“Alright, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

“See ya.”

Stiles rises from the booth he’s been sitting in for all of two minutes to head up to the cash register.  The girl at the counter smiles. He knows her vaguely from here and from school, but he still needs her nametag to help him remember her name is Carrie.

“Hey, Carrie, I’m actually gonna put in the order to-go.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” she replies  “Turkey burger, no pickle, extra ketchup with curly fries, and a chocolate/strawberry mix milkshake?”

“Am I that predictable?”

“You’re in here at least twice a week lately, and the order never changes—except sometimes you get extra fries.”

“Guess that is pretty predictable.”

“So sticking to the usual?”

“Yeah, thanks, and can I add a bacon double cheeseburger with regular fries and a coke?”

“Sure.  It’ll be about ten minutes or so.  Just have a seat at one of the barstools.”

“Thanks.”

She’s back in a few minutes with his milkshake.  She hovers a few minutes after sitting it down.  Stiles raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Something else?” he asks.

“Look, I—uh—can I talk to you for like two seconds? I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles replies with a shrug, rolling with it even though he’s more than a little confused.

She glances around before saying, “Actually, I should get a quick break about the time your order’s ready.  Maybe we could just talk then? Outside?”

“Okay,” he agrees.  “That’s fine I guess.”

Ten minutes later she’s walking out the door with him.  She looks incredibly nervous, and she’s not quite meeting his eyes.  It puts Stiles on edge.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just—I wanted to talk to you because, see I used to date this guy and he was like a total asshole, okay? But I didn’t realize what an ass he was until we broke up because at first he seemed really awesome and I couldn’t believe a guy like that wanted to date me.  I found out later that he was totally cheating on me for _months_ and like _everyone_ knew but me so I just looked like a total fucking idiot and I hated everyone for never actually having the decency to even mention it to me.”

“I’m….sorry?” Stiles says, not really sure how else to respond to her random word-vomit.

“Shit, no—that's not what I wanted to talk about-I just-I was just—I wanted you to know where I’m coming from here.  Because I kind of sort of remember you from homeroom back in ninth grade, and you still seem like a good guy, and well—well—I think you should know that your boyfriend comes in here with another guy, too.”

"What?” Stiles asks, completely flabbergasted on several different levels.

"Maybe it’s nothing,” she continues before Stiles can say anything else. “I just—he comes in here with you and I see you guys all the time and I noticed a couple weeks ago that he comes in here with this other guy too.  I thought maybe it was nothing, but he’s never with both of you, just one or the other, and he always pays for this other guy too and like I said maybe it’s nothing.  I mean I don’t really get the same vibe from the two of them as I do the two of you, but I still thought you should maybe know in case you didn’t even though it’s probably none of my business.”

She stops to take a breath, and Stiles focuses on using every ounce of self-restraint he has not to just laugh uproariously in this poor girl’s face at the absurdity of this whole situation.

“He—ah—Derek isn’t—he isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Oh! Oh, my God. I’m so sorry—shit, I’m sorry. I just—I assumed with the way you two come in, and he always pays, and you two just have kind of a chemistry or something I thought—shit, I don’t know. I’m sorry. Wow, I am a total fucking idiot. Please forget I said anything. I’m just going to go—die of shame or something.”

She moves past him to hurry back inside.  “Hey, Carrie,” he calls, and she turns.  “Don’t feel like an idiot. If he _was_ my boyfriend, I’d’ve wanted to know. You were just trying to help,” he tells her, offering a smile because she meant well.

She gives a small, forced smile in return, though she’s still blushing like crazy.  She rushes back inside, and Stiles turns to head for his Jeep. 

 _…_ _I assumed with the way you two come in, and he always pays, and you two just have kind of chemistry or something I thought…_

He’s never considered what he and Derek look like to the outside world. He hasn’t really worried about the impression he gives to anyone who’s not pack in a long time; he just thinks in terms of not drawing unwanted attention to the pack and that really just means watching what they talk about and keeping the contact between them to a normal level, which isn’t too hard. They don’t go overboard on the contact anyway; it’s just a hair or two beyond what humans who are just friends would do. For the most part, people assume they all bonded through lacrosse somehow or something. Sure, he knows people think it’s a little odd that Derek hangs around with them since there’s such an age difference, but it never really causes anything more than some questioning or disapproving looks and eye rolls from strangers.  Since the way they are in public hasn’t come up as an issue for the pack, Stiles hasn’t given it a second thought.

Now that the idea is there, he can’t quite get it out of his head.  He keeps repeating the conversation.

_I mean I don’t really get the same vibe from the two of them as I do the two of you…_

She’d been talking about Isaac. Derek and Stiles started coming here months ago.  Once Isaac moved in at Derek’s, Scott came to the pack house more and more to hang out, which also meant Stiles was there even more than usual.  Scott and Isaac were usually content to order pizza, so that left Derek and Stiles to actually go out for food if they wanted anything else. It was a good chance to talk about anything going on with the other betas too so it quickly became a weekly thing, if not more frequent.  Stiles isn’t surprised she got a different ‘vibe’ from Isaac and Derek.  The pack dynamics are different between everyone the way they’d be within any group. He’d like to dismiss it completely.

But his mind dwells on her comment that they,  _just have kind of chemistry or something…_

A chemistry? Does he really have a chemistry with Derek? Yeah, they’ve gotten closer over the past few months.  The other betas always claim Stiles has to be the one to propose new ideas because Derek’s more likely to say ‘yes,’ but that’s been the case for a while and it’s just because Stiles has mostly figured out how to most effectively talk to Derek.  Yeah, they’ve turned into a better alpha/second duo than he’d ever anticipated, and they’ve established a dynamic that just _works_ now for reasons Stiles doesn’t understand but doesn’t question.   It’s not some magic chemistry or anything—at least he wouldn’t have ever described it that way.  All he knows is that he and Derek are actually a pretty good team, and it’s pretty awesome. Should he have been looking more closely?

But it’s still Derek. Derek isn’t like _that_ with anybody.  He doesn’t date. He doesn’t flirt with people except as a means to get something from them.  Stiles can’t even recall him even showing interest in anything like that.  There’s no reason to look into it because there _can’t_ be anything mutual there; if anything’s there, it’s just from Stiles, and there’s no reason to complicate things.

Stiles arrives at the house a lot sooner than he expects.  He leans forward to rest his head wearily on the steering wheel, not entirely sure when the hell the question of _if_ he and Derek might look like a couple turned into _could_ he and Derek be a couple.  It’s a train of thought he can’t afford to examine; it could damage the pack bonds, and he’s not willing to risk that.  He takes a couple more minutes to try and shove the serious implications of this debacle to the back of his mind and turn it into an absurd joke again.  He succeeds enough for the moment and heads inside.

“How’re the papers coming?” he asks as he walks in.

“Good,” Lydia responds from where she and Isaac sit on the couches, books and papers spread out all around them.  “How’s yours?”

“Finished last night.  I’ll proof yours if you’ll proof mine?”

“Think you can take it?”

“Show no mercy.”

“Never do,” Lydia assures him with a smirk.

Stiles still enjoys watching her flaunt her intelligence after bottling it up for so long.  She still tones it down everywhere else, but around the pack she’s openly brilliant and it’s awesome.  He plops down on an empty couch and pulls out his food. 

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Isaac asks after a few moments.

“Huh?” Stiles replies, realizing he’s been staring at the wall and made no attempt in the past two minutes to take a bite of his burger.

“I can practically _hear_ you thinking. What’s up?”

The downside here is that a lie won’t get him anywhere, not really; Isaac’s not one to let them slide.

“If you didn’t know us, would you think Derek was my boyfriend?” Stiles asks.  He forces a laugh as he adds, “because the waitress at Minnie’s totally thought we were a couple and it kind of caught me off guard is all. I never thought about it.”

“Really? _Never_?” Lydia prods.

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“I mean; you’ve seen the guy. You’ve never once thought about—”

“Dude, it’s Derek.”

“So?”

“So it’s Derek,” he repeats like it should explain everything to them.  “I’m generally just happy with the fact that we’re making forward motion with whole the friendship-instead-of-just-fighting thing.  I don’t stop to examine it.  I roll with it.”

“Fair enough I guess, but, yeah, to the rest of the world you could potentially be dating. I mean—I maybe wouldn’t automatically assume, but I could see where she gets the idea.  You two go out to eat together all the time, and he usually pays and you two kind of have the whole alpha/second easiness with each other. It’s the kind of vibe that usually only comes with being really close to people and why else would you be close to Derek Hale? He’s not exactly a peer, so…I mean I can see where she’d get that idea.”

“Wait,” Isaac asks.  “Is her name Cathy or Candi or something like that? The red-headed girl?”

“Carrie.”

Isaac laughs and Stiles follows suit. “That explains the stink-eye she always gives us.  She thinks he’s your boyfriend and he’s cheating on you?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stiles replies.  “She was trying to help, but she was embarrassed as hell when I set the record straight.”

“Does it bother you?” Lydia asks.  “That she thought you were dating?”

“I mean, most people at school already know I bat for both teams after that thing with Keith back in March.  I don’t really care about that, and  it’s not like there’s anything wrong with Derek—but we’re _not_ dating and I just want to know why we give off that vibe? Who looks at us and sees a couple? We’re like the least compatible people _ever._ ”

“Kind of like you’re the least compatible alpha/second pair ever?” Lydia asks.

“That’s different.”

“Sure it is,” she agrees sardonically.

“It is!” Stiles insists.  “What the hell are we even talking about anyway? This is not a discussion of _if_ me and Derek should date. I just asked if it looked like we are to the outside world.           If it calls attention we should know so we can tone it down or something?”

“Well, d _o_ you think you and Derek should date?”

“What?”

“Do you think—”

“Oh, my God, Lydia, I heard you—I just—what kind of question—why would you even ask that?”

“You didn’t say ‘no’.”

“I didn’t say ‘yes,’ either!”

“So you _are_ saying no?”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m saying! I didn’t even—this wasn’t—I’d never even fucking considered  this until twenty minutes ago—wait—why the hell am I freaking out? There’s nothing to freak out over. Derek and I hang out, as _friends_ , and sometimes people get the wrong impression apparently. That. Is. All.”

“Okay then,” Lydia says with a shrug.

“Okay,” Stiles agrees.

“Right,” Isaac adds. 

“Okay,” Stiles repeats, and his mouth doesn’t consult his brain before adding, “Besides, Derek doesn’t even date for Chrissake, and if he did, I’m _the_ last person in the world he would date anyway, right?”

“Right,” Derek’s voice agrees adamantly from somewhere near the front door.

All three betas freeze.  Stiles mouth drops open.  Isaac and Lydia recover quickly and begin hastily gathering their books and mumbling something about going to Lydia’s to finish up.  They hurry out the door past Derek who’s entering the room slowly. He looks as dumbfounded as Stiles feels.

“Lie,” Stiles calls when he finally find his voice again.

“I—I didn’t mean—it wasn’t supposed to be a lie,” Derek replies.  “I agreed with you.”

“So then—glitch in the system?” Stiles asks, hoping it’s true, because otherwise his life just got infinitely more complicated.

“I don’t want to date you,” Derek says firmly, but the lie’s there too.  His face panics.  “I mean it. I don’t think about us like that.”

The last statement isn’t a lie.  “So I don’t really know what to say here.  You don’t think of us like that, but you do want to date me?”

“I’d never even thought about dating you until I walked in the door and heard you say it.”

 “Fairly new thought for me too—how much did you hear of that conversation?”

“Most of it—I think—the waitress at Minnie’s thinks we’re a couple?”

“She thinks you’re cheating on me with Isaac,” Stiles replies with a grin, trying to get some hilarity into the awkward moment.

“Oh,” Derek replies, not cracking a smile.

“So how about we just pretend this conversation never—”

 “You say it,” Derek orders.

"Say what?”

“Say you don’t want to date me.”

“I don’t want to date you,” Stiles replies obligingly, meaning it.

“Lie,” Derek calls, and Stiles knows the look on Derek’s face. It’s the look Derek gets at sparring when he thinks he’s about to lose; a look of someone desperately planning an escape route. It’s nice to know Stiles isn’t the only one fighting the urge to run.

"So what now?” Stiles asks.

“It’s too risky,” Derek says.

“And too complicated,” Stiles agrees. 

“Exactly.”

“Right. So we’ll  just pretend this conversation never happened? Sound good?”

_Ignore the problem ‘til it goes away, Stilinski._

“Yeah, sounds good,” Derek agrees.

“Lie.”

“Goddamnit!”

“Okay, so what do you _really_ want to do? Or I guess what do you think you really want to do? Because apparently those aren’t the same thing for either of us at the moment and—this is really fucking confusing.”

“I don’t want to risk the pack,” Derek replies, a simple, solid, honest statement.

“Me neither.”

“We’re not sure what this is, but whatever it is, it could hurt the pack.”

“Yeah.”

“So it’s best for the pack if we don’t do anything about it.”

“Yeah.”

“Lie,” Derek calls with a sigh.

“I don’t mean for it to be a lie. I totally agree it could hurt the pack!”

“You just also apparently think that it might not.”

“Yeah, but there’s no way to know which way it would go. We didn’t even start thinking about this until just now and we can’t even have a normal conversation about it.  How the fuck are we supposed to decide what to do if we can’t even talk without accidentally lying all the time? Seriously, what the hell?”

“We let the lies slide,” Derek suggests. “That’s what we do. We let the lies slide, and if we need to, we can have this conversation again later, but right now we’ve agreed that it’s a risk we don’t have to take so—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just go on a date!” Lydia screams exasperatedly from the front porch.

"I thought you  were leaving!” Stiles calls back as Lydia comes back in the house. 

“No way was I leaving and with this discussion about to happen.”

Derek glares at her.  “Lydia, this is none of your busi—”

“My pack, my business,” she quips in reply, “especially if you two idiots are trying to pull some martyr routine to avoid going on a simple little date.”

“Nothing about this is simple,” Stiles replies.  “This could completely change the entire pack dynamic and we have no idea—”

“Oh, _come on_.  The pack dynamic can handle you two going on a date and seeing what happens.  Jackson and I fight and make-up all the time, and no one’s been too worse for the wear.”

“Yeah, but we’re—”

“Important alpha/second bond and shit, I know,” she agrees dismissively.  “This isn’t a marriage proposal.  Just let it be a possibility and see how it goes.  If you don’t, you know you’re both going to keep thinking about it anyway and trying to figure it out.  It’ll be a distraction, and aren’t you the one always saying we can’t afford to have those, O Mighty Alpha?”

Several moments of silence pass before Derek finally replies, “We’ll think about it?” with a questioning look to Stiles.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “We’ll think about it.”

“Excellent,” Lydia replies with a triumphant grin, flouncing back out of the room.  “Why don’t you start now?” she goads, closing the front door behind her.

This time, Stiles waits for the sound of her car starting before he starts talking again.

“Can we _not_ talk about this right now? Please? Can we just eat and talk about normal stuff and then give it a night before we start talking about this because I don’t even know what the hell’s going on in my head anymore.”

“That idea sounds good,” Derek says, looking relieved. 

“Awesome.”

It’s the most awkward, silent meal they’ve shared in a very long time, and Stiles absolutely hates it.  Why couldn’t they have both just gone with the denial route and left this as a nice joke to laugh about later?

_Fucking werewolf hearing…_

           

 

 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, three parts in and we've *finally* breached the should-they-date topic. Hope you enjoyed the way I did it :) We've got a little more reflection on queue in the coming chapters, and of course we've got to have an awkward first date sometime :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a first. This little blurb is from Lydia's POV.
> 
> It was originally just character development stuff for my own benefit, but I feel like it's important to the plot to know that my head canon is she's fully supporting the idea of Derek/Stiles. She's brilliant, goes for what she wants, and I think if anyone in the pack could be a catalyst for Derek and Stiles, it would be Lydia. She's the one giving the necessary nudges for everyone to let this relationship have a fair chance.

“Um, you missed the turn for your house,” Isaac points out as they drive.

“We’re not going to my house. We’re going to Scott’s.”

“Why?”

“Because if this thing is going to happen, it’s going to take all of us.”

_And if I get you and Scott  on board with this plan—or at the least not against it—then I can make sure these two idiots actually go out on a date or two and give this a try._

“What thing? Derek and Stiles? There’s no way that’s actually going to happen.”

“Not with that attitude.”

"Why do you care anyway?”

_I care because while I can’t help that I’m in love with Jackson, I can see that Stiles would be a fantastic partner.  I care because he still wanted me despite my moods and bitchy moments. I care because he saw through the act I put on for everyone else and acknowledged the person beneath it.  I care because while I’m not in love with him, I do still love him, and he deserves to be happy with someone; Derek does too._

Stiles is exactly the kind of person Derek needs, and Stiles wants to be that person. 

She doesn’t quite understand _why_ exactly Stiles is drawn toward people who need someone to sort through their bullshit to get to the person underneath, but she’s damn grateful he is.  It’s part of what makes him such a fantastic friend.  Stiles wants to be helpful; he wants to be an anchor—to be needed.  Not only does Derek need Stiles, Stiles needs Derek. They complement each other better than they realize. They’ll fight and they’ll argue, but they’ll work because they can match each other—not that different from her and Jackson in a lot of ways.  She can see all the ways this could be perfect for both of them—not easy, but still perfect in its own way. 

She’s wondered about it a few times, just noticing the way they’ve grown closer in the past months.  She’s even considered nudging them in this direction at some point in the future.  Now that there’s a definite possibility it could happen, she’s going to do everything in her power to make sure they give it a real chance—none of this  self-sacrificing routine because they’re scared to lose the pack they’ve built.

_The whole damn point of building the strength of the pack dynamic is so everything doesn’t go to hell when conflicts come.  We can take this whether it turns out for better or worse. We’ve weathered tougher things._

She has no doubt they could take a break-up without decimating the pack.  Neither Stiles nor Derek would ever deliberately hurt the other.  They both love the pack too much to let this get in the way, so they’d put their own feelings aside for the greater good.  Worst case scenario, there’s an awkward adjustment period following a break-up, but at this point just the fact that they have feelings for each other is going to require some adjustment. 

Best case scenario two people she really cares about get to be happy together, and the whole pack bond gets even stronger.

She’s played with much higher stakes; it’s a risk she’s more than willing to take.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> occurs immediately after chapters 4 and 5

Once Stiles is gone, Derek’s left completely alone with his thoughts.  After staring blankly at the TV for fifteen minutes, he decides to go out for a run to try and clear his head.   He’d never thought there could be a civil conversation between him and Stiles that would turn out worse than all the fights they’d ever had, but this had proven him wrong.  Usually the ability to hear lies—however frustrating it may be sometimes—generally aids the conversation and they end up ironing out the issues. This time around, it’s only making things worse.

Because he _doesn’t_ want to date Stiles. Stiles is too young, and too talkative, and too human, and too— _Stiles._ He’s never once looked at Stiles and considered any romantic possibilities. 

But now…

Now it’s a very real possibility no matter how hesitant either of them may be, and they’re not going to be able to avoid it forever.

_You’re the one who butted into the conversation in the first place, goddammit; you get half the blame for the talk even happening so now you get to help sort out what the hell this thing is before it turns into a problem.  You’re just gonna have to think and talk about your feelings whether you want to or not. Suck it up, buttercup._

Derek literally stops in his tracks because the voice in his head doesn’t sound like Laura's voice anymore.

It’s Stiles'.

He wracks his brain to try and think if this is the first time this has happened or not, but he honestly can’t remember.  He’d spent so much time with Laura before she died that it hadn’t been hard to supplement the silence with her reactions even though she was gone—a bit of comfort in the pale ghost of her company his mind reconstructed in its solitude.

These days, there isn’t a whole lot of silence or solitude to be had. There’s a whole pack to fill in the gaps, a whole pack to occupy his mind, and, when he needs to talk something out or he needs advice—solicited or not—there’s…

Stiles.

Stiles, who’s given his blood and sweat and tears to this pack more than once. Stiles, who’s a better Second at seventeen than Peter was sometimes at thirty.    Stiles, who’s poured himself into honing his magic to help the pack until he’s chugging caffeine to combat the exhaustion. Stiles, who’s defaulted so naturally these past months to thinking of the pack first.  Stiles, who’s better loved than anyone else in this pack and probably doesn’t even realize it.  Stiles, who says he’s not going to college because he doesn’t want to deal with leaving the pack behind.  Stiles, who’s the first person in a long time who can get Derek to change his mind about anything.  Stiles, who Derek’s come closer to trusting completely than anyone else in seven years.

Stiles, who isn’t the last person Derek would date.

Stiles, who’s actually the _first_ person Derek would chose to be with.

_Holy shit, maybe I do kind of want this._

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Stiles manages to distract himself for the rest of the night once he’s back home.  The problem comes when he tries to sleep and his mind is still ceaselessly trying to muddle through the confusion to no avail.  He’s never been more pissed at the fucking werewolf superhearing power—an that’s saying something.  Normally, when it’s not being a helpful tool to make them iron out issues, it’s just somewhat inconvenient, but this is downright infuriating.  How can they pick up on each other’s lies when they don’t even know they’re lying? And how is he lying when it doesn’t feel like he’s lying?

Because he _doesn’t_ want to date Derek. Derek’s too much older, and too moody, and too alpha, and too— _Derek._ He’s never once looked at Derek and though of anything romantic.            But now…

Now he _can’t_ look at Derek without wondering a least a little.  Now it’s entirely possible that there’s not only something there but that it’s mutual.  And this is one problem Stiles doesn’t think he can ignore until it goes away—not after the possibility of reciprocation is on the table.

_Goddammit, Derek. Why’d you have to come butt into the conversation? If you’d just announced yourself a little sooner or kept your mouth shut,  this talk wouldn’t even have happened—at least not right now.  But no, now we’re both screwed because we have to sort through whatever the hell this damn thing is before it turns into a real problem._

And so help him, if Derek tries to pull the stoic I-don’t-need-to-talk-about-my-feelings with this, Stiles will punch the alpha in the throat.  Self-preservation be damned.

Although, these days, it’s a lot more likely that Derek’ll be honest with him from the start.  He’s calling Derek’s lies less and less and getting attempts at explanations more and more.  Derek’s not the same person he was when Stiles met him a year ago.

Nowadays, Derek’s remembering how to live, not just survive. He’s become the alpha none of them were entirely sure he could be.  He’s given himself completely to strengthening the pack as a fighting force _and_ as a family.  He’s learned how to give constructive criticism at training.  He’s gone to lacrosse games and kept track of GPAs even when Stiles knows he’d rather be doing a million other things he believes to be more practical.  He’s been adamant that they’ll figure out a way for everyone to remain pack and still get to go to college. He’s worked harder at letting go of control and trusting his pack than Stiles could ever have hoped he would. Stiles still doesn’t think the answer to “Do you trust me?” would be “yes,” but he’s pretty sure it would be “mostly.”

And Stiles realizes he _really_ wants to be that person Derek trusts.  He wants to be the one that keeps pushing Derek until Derek finally figures out how to move beyond as much of his past as he can.  He wants to help Derek get back to the person he knows is under all the defensive walls he puts up.  He wants to be the one who’s there for the long haul.

This isn’t just about the pack or about Derek as its alpha. It’s about Derek as a person and the fact that Stiles really does just enjoy being with Derek as often as he can and to whatever extent he can—packmate, second, battle backup, whatever—so does that mean he’d be up for spending time with Derek as his boyfriend too? 

_Holy shit, maybe I do kind of want this._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Hope you're still enjoying it!
> 
> I added in Lydia's POV as chapter 5 and reordered things a bit, so if you haven't seen that, be sure to take a look :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles' first date! :)

 “You’re wearing that?” Lydia demands as Derek comes down the stairs.

_Why the hell are you even here, Lydia? Can’t you butt out for two seconds?_

Some part of Derek appreciates Lydia’s help, and all the shoves in the right direction she’s been giving to make sure Derek and Stiles picked a time and decided what to do and he suspects the others’ quick general acquiescence to the idea of dating also has something to do with Lydia.  On the whole, Derek really wishes she would back off a little—or a lot.

“There is nothing wrong with what I’m wearing,” Derek replies with a glare.

“That’s what you always wear.”

“And your point is?”

“It’s a date, Derek.  You could at least put on a nice shirt.  You know Stiles will, and then you’re going to show up in your usual t-shirt and he’s going to think you’re not actually trying and it’s going to get everything off to the wrong start and—”

“It is not that big a deal,” Derek insists.

“It’s your first date!” Lydia insists.  “Come on! I know you own nicer shirts.  I’ve bought them for you.”

He thinks of the two polo shirts she gave him for Christmas that are currently hanging in his closet upstairs.  He’s worn them both exactly once.

“There is nothing wrong with this shirt,” he says again.

"It shows you didn’t think for more than five minutes about what you were wearing, and it also shows that you aren’t planning to go out anyplace nice. For the love of God _do not_ take him to one of your usual two-bit diner-type places. A restaurant, you understand me? A nice one.”

“ _Lydia—”_

“It doesn’t have to be _fancy_. It just has to be _nice_.”

“It’s none of your business what we—”

“Have you ever even been on a date?”

For one terrible moment he thinks he’s going to have to find a way around the lie because the answer to that question in all honesty is ‘no _._ ’This is the first honest-to-God normal date he’s ever had.  Kate was a hookup from a bar and secret meet-ups later that he’d been dumb enough to think of as something real. Everyone after her was just a quick indulgence to blow off steam.

Luckily Lydia spares him from dodging the lie by continuing, “I mean this is pretty basic stuff.  It’s not rocket science.  You ask someone out; you get dressed up; you go someplace nice.  It’s fairly formulaic, Sourwolf.”

One of these days he’s going to find a way to pay Stiles back for starting that goddamned nickname.

“You’re over-reacting,” he informs her.

Lydia huffs, crosses her arms, and glares at him. “If you’re going to do this, do it right.  Stiles doesn’t deserve a piss poor excuse for a first date.”

“You know what? Fine! It’s not even worth the damn argument,” Derek replies, turning to go back up the stairs.

He’ll pretend he’s just appeasing Lydia, but he’s actually pretty sure she’s got a point.  If they’re going to give this dating thing a shot, they may as well do it right.  And no, Stiles doesn’t deserve a piss poor first date.  He’d assumed this was just going to be a casual night—nothing too far off from what they usually do, but if Stiles is expecting something nicer, he’s going to be disappointed as hell if Derek doesn’t seem equally enthusiastic.  Derek dons one of the nice shirts, deciding to err on the side of caution. He’d rather risk do much than risk having Stiles think Derek’s not taking this seriously.

“Much better,” Lydia says approvingly when Derek returns wearing the black polo she bought him for his birthday. 

“Shut up,” Derek replies moodily, heading out the door to his car.

He cranks the radio and drives a little too fast on the way to Stiles house, trying to distract from the sense of uncertainty gathering in his gut.  He’s more than a little nervous, not that he’d ever admit it.  There are a million ways for the night to go wrong; odds are it’s going to end in some kind of fight that’s going to decimate this friendship they’ve been building the last several months, but, then again, they play shitty odds all the time.

Maybe there’s a shot in hell this could work.

 

********************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles greets as he opens the door, hoping his voice doesn’t sound quite as anxious as he feels.

“Hey,” Derek replies with a smile that’s a little too forced.

 Stiles looks down at the t-shirt he’s got on and over to what Derek’s wearing.

“Shit,” Stiles says. “I—uh—I didn’t think we were—so I—hold on. I’ll change really quick. I assumed we were doing kind of a casual thing, so I—Give me like two minutes. I’m gonna change. ”

_Also, I’m gonna work on completing actual sentences and not babbling like an idiot.  Then later I’m gonna kill Scott for convincing me Derek wouldn’t make a big deal of this._

He’d left about fifteen minutes ago with a, “Just, be careful  with this, okay?; it’s Derek. He’s—he doesn’t do emotional attachment. Don’t let Lydia get your hopes up too much; she’s been pushing this whole thing really hard on both of you _,”_ on his way out the door.

Scott’s not against the idea of Derek and Stiles exactly; he just doesn’t think Derek’s the kind of person to get invested in this kind of stuff.   

All Stiles could think was, _You don’t know him the same way I do._

Stiles pushes the earlier conversation with his best friend to the back of his mind and rushes back up to his room to throw on a nicer t-shirt and a button-up shirt.  He looks in the mirror and briefly debates a tie before realizing he’s overreacting and that would be serious overkill.  He’s still rolling his cuffs up a little when he descends the stairs again. 

“I should’ve asked where we’re going. Does this work?”

"It’s good,” Derek says, and he’s got a semi-forced smile on his face again.  “Don’t worry about it. You look—good.”

“Thanks,” Stiles replies.

           

***************************************************************************************************************************************

 

_An awkward “you look—good”? That’s the best you can muster? What the hell’s wrong with you, Hale?_

Derek can think of a million compliments to add,   _Nice shirt. That color looks good on you…_ but they all sound forced and awkward. Besides, the moment’s passed, so he doesn’t say anything else. He just walks out to the car with Stiles. He thinks for a moment of opening Stiles’ door, but it feels like it would be too much. 

Stiles seems to be even more on edge than Derek, which isn’t helping Derek’s nerves any; at least Derek’s pretty good at hiding it. Meanwhile, Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet and extra fidgety.  They get away with mostly letting the radio fill the silence on the way to the restaurant, but once they’re at the table, the conversation’s even more awkward and disjointed than it was over last night’s takeout; Derek absolutely _hates_ it.

“So—anything new with your magic? You saw Deaton this afternoon, right?” Derek asks to try and get the conversation going again after another excruciating lull.

"Nothing new really,” Stiles replies, “just practicing the usual.”

“Oh.”

“I can hold a whirlwind for a full five minutes now.”

“That’s awesome!”

Derek waits for Stiles to expound, but he doesn’t; another awkward pause descends.

 

************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“Did you decide if you’re going to enter that archery competition?” Derek asks.

“I don’t think I’m going to,” Stiles answers, “but I think Danny’s planning on it.”

He keeps his answers short and to the point. He knows it makes for awkward silence, but it’s better than the embarrassing rambling that will probably happen if he ever really gets going.  All Stiles can think about is how big a fool he made of himself on his first date with Keith—looking up halfway through dinner to realize that Keith had the god-awful look of someone _trapped_ and realizing that he’d monopolized the whole evening by rambling about everything from sports to comics, barely letting Keith get a word in edgewise.  On top of that unforgettably uncomfortable experience, it’s no secret that Stiles rambling is one of the quickest ways to annoy the shit out of Derek.  He’s bound and determined to keep it in check tonight. He’s not going to annoy Derek or start a tangent that could end in far too much confession about exactly how confused but excited he it that they’re actually out on a date.  He’s going to be as chill and normal as possible for at least one night.  He’s not going to fuck this chance up; there won’t be another one.

“Oh, okay.” When Stiles doesn’t’ reply to that, Derek continues, “Danny’ll get some good competition.” Derek realizes how that sounded and his eyes widen just a bit in almost-panic.  “Not that you’re not good competition—you could compete too—I just meant—”

“No offense taken, dude. I’m the first to admit Danny and Lydia both kick my ass at archery,” Stiles interrupts with a smile. 

“You’re still good though,” Derek persists, and Stiles can’t help it if his grin widens.

“Thanks.”

 

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************

           

Derek waits yet again for Stiles to break the silence, but he still doesn’t.  He considers for a moment bringing up the Mets before realizing he did that already in the car to no avail.  He’s searching for other topics that might get Stiles talking, but he’s tried pretty much everything he could think of in the course of the last twenty minutes.  It doesn’t help that Stiles is drumming his fingers nervously on the table. 

Derek reaches across the table to cover Stiles hand with his own and stop the tapping.  Stiles eyes widen in surprise and snap up to meet Derek’s.

“Sorry,” Derek says, pulling his hand back a few inches.  “You’re just really wound up.  What’s wrong? ‘Cause if you don’t want to be here, we don’t have to do this.”

“No, no. I totally want to be here,” Stiles assures him, moving his hand forward to find Derek’s. 

“Lie,” Derek calls, and he can’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“It’s not!” Stiles insists, voice almost panicked.

“Stiles, you—”

“Look, I want to be on the date, but being _here_ specifically maybe isn’t exactly what I thought we were doing.  There’s nothing wrong with it, though. I’m fine. It’s not what I expected us to do, but it’s nice,” Stiles expounds, “Tell me I’m lying,” he adds when Derek looks dubious.

It was all true, and it calms Derek to know this isn’t already a total failure. There’s still something off with Stiles though, and Derek can’t help pointing out, “You’re barely talking, and you’re fidgeting like crazy. If you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m not uncomfortable; I’m just _nervous as hell,_ Sourwolf,” Stiles replies exasperatedly, “and I’m trying not to ramble like a fucking idiot, okay?”

"So you just decided not to talk at all?” Derek asks, unable to stop the smirk that spreads across his face.

“Don’t say it like that; you make it sound a lot stupider than it is.”   

Stiles looks down miserably at his menu, clearly self-conscious about the confession.  It’s something Derek doesn’t see a lot—Stiles looking this nervous and vulnerable.  Usually he sees the Stiles who’s full of bravado and sarcasm no matter how uncertain he may be about a situation. 

_Look, I want to be on the date but being here specifically maybe isn’t exactly what I thought we were doing.  There’s nothing wrong with it, though. I’m fine. It’s not what I expected us to do, but it’s nice._

Derek remembers the t-shirt Stiles was wearing when he’d met Derek at the door.  He’d been expecting something casual.  Something low-key like they normally did.   Clearly he’s not disappointed to be here, but maybe Lydia’s formulaic plan for first dates isn’t what they need.  Nothing about this relationship is going to be normal, so if the first date’s not normal it’s really kind of par for the course.

“You know, we could always forget this place and go get milkshakes,” Derek suggests before he can think better of it.

Stiles looks up at him with a grin that falters slightly as he says, “This is fine. It’s a nce place. We’re already here.”

“So?’ Derek replies. “We haven’t ordered. We could ditch and grab milkshakes and just kind of do what we usually do. If you want to?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Stiles’ smile returns full force, and Derek can’t help but mirror it.

“Come on,” Derek replies, getting up from the booth.

He throws a few bills on the table to cover the cost of their drinks, and then they head for the door.

 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles says as they get into the car. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask a shameless lie detector question? Just to hear the answer?”

He’s been debating doing this since the date started, and really what’s the point of having awesome lie-detecting abilities if you can’t use it to your advantage sometimes? Particularly when you’re trying not to make a fool of yourself on important dates.

“Sure,” Derek replies hesitantly.

“Did you come on this date just to get Lydia and the others to shut up about it?”

“No,” Derek answers honestly.  “Did you?”

“No,” Stiles says, heart beat even. 

“Good.”

“Yeah—sorry—I just—”

“Scott thinks I’m just playing along,” Derek guesses.

“Something like that,” Stiles admits, not wanting to elaborate.

“Well, I’m not,” Derek replies, clearly a little irked.  “You know me better than to think I’d come on a date with you just because Lydia threw a fit.”

 “Yeah, okay, I should know that. Sorry.”

_I just can’t help wondering why the hell else you would actually go through with asking me out on a date? I’ve watched you grin your way into a sheriff’s station like it was second nature—you could date anybody in Beacon Hills if you just turn on the Derek Hale charm for a second. So why the hell would you date me?_

Derek shrugs away the apology. 

“So speaking of knowing people,” Stiles says. “You know me well enough to tell me to shut up if I’m talking too much, right?”

“Stiles, you’re _always_ talking too much,” Derek quips back with a smirk on his face.

“I am not,” Stiles replies, rising to the bait, “and if I do, it’s to pick up the slack from you and your broody quiet sourwolf thing.”

“I’m not a sourwolf,” Derek insists.  “That’s not even a thing.”

"Dude, it’s totally a thing, and you totally are.”

“Shut up.”

It shouldn’t make such a difference just to ask one question and change the venue, but somehow Stiles can go along with the banter and convince himself this isn’t as big a deal if it’s just him and Derek going to grab milkshakes.  It lends to his favored solution of ignoring a problem.

_If we’re just heading to Minnie’s, then this isn’t that different from a normal night. There’s no reason to be freaked because this is a normal night.  It’s a normal night. Normal. Normal. Normal._

_Totally not a really important date with a twenty-three-year-old super-hot werewolf who you recently realized you actually want to be around and/or date for the foreseeable future but fucking this up could ruin all possibility of that._  

_Nope. Just a normal night. Normal. Normal. Normal._

Once Stiles mellows out, Derek loses his I’m-the-super-stoic-master-of-my-emotions face and starts smiling more easily.  It’s not long before they fall into much more of their usual ebb and flow of interaction.   There’s still a slight air of uncertainty hanging between them, but Stiles figures that’s okay.  This isn’t a dynamic they’re going to figure out completely in one date, and it’s looking more and more like there’s going to be a second, which is really fucking awesome.

 

************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

In the lull of conversation from the diner to the car, it seems some of Stiles’ worry returns.  Derek doesn’t like it, but he’s been expecting it.

“You can say whatever you’re thinking,” Derek tells him as he puts the car in drive, “but you know we don’t have to figure _everything_ out tonight, right?”

_Because this is probably going to be fucking complicated no matter how we look at it, and I don’t even know what the hell I think about half the worries bouncing around in both our minds._

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles replies.  “One more lie detector question?”

“Okay.”

“You really think this can work?”

Derek wants to say yes, but he tried that months ago when Stiles asked for his trust; he’s not willing to risk an accidental untruth.  Not tonight. Not when things are _finally_ going well and this might actually lead to a second date.

“I want it to,” he replies, opting for the definite truth.

 “Good.  Me too.”

Stiles smiles for the umpteenth time tonight, but it’s different; something a little shy, not his usual casual grin.  Derek gets the urge to kiss him—would kiss him if Stiles were anyone else. But Stiles is seventeen, and Derek’s not going to be the one pushing anything in this relationship—especially not physically.  He settles for just returning the smile.

The car ride that ends the evening is almost as quiet as the ride that began it, but the difference between the two couldn’t be greater.   It’s a comfortable, companionable silence.  Stiles occasionally sings along with the radio under his breath as Derek taps lightly along with the beat on the steering wheel.  When they pull into the Stilinskis’ drive it suddenly seems like the night was far too short.

“So thanks for tonight, I had a good time,” Stiles tells him as he puts one hand on the door handle.  “We should do it again.”

It’s kind of the cliché thing to say, but there’s no lie or hesitation in the statement; that’s the important part.

“Yeah, me too.” Derek agrees with a grin.  “You can pick what we do next time if you want.”     

Rather than reply, Stiles turns to look at him and says, “Hey, don’t kill me for this.”

Derek only has a moment to be confused by that statement before Stiles abruptly closes the space between them. They kiss for one quick moment—a moment that’s over far too soon in Derek’s opinion—and then Stiles pulls away, blushing like crazy; his heartbeat is spiked along with Derek’s.  Then he’s out of the car and halfway to the house in a flash. 

“Why would I kill you for that?” Derek asks, the smile on his face even wider now.           In answer, Stiles just gives a kind of exaggerated shrug as he continues walking. “Training tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah, don’t be late.”

“They’re gonna give us hell,” Stiles says, and Derek’s assuming he’s referring to the barrage of questions and jokes that are sure to come from the rest of the pack.

“Let ‘em,” Derek replies with a shrug, unwilling to let anything detract from how amazingly well this night turned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, folks. We're finally here. 'Tis official--mostly :) Hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> Big thanks to my part-time beta, Dana, for dealing with my insanity while tackling this chapter :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the sheriff is told about Stiles and Derek dating.

“So I was thinking about this second date,” Stiles says to Derek as they haul in groceries for pack dinner.  “Maybe we just stay in for this one? Order take-out and rent a movie or something?”

“Sounds good.”

“How about Thursday?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What’s with the brooding face?” Stiles asks.  “You want to do something else? We could—”

“No, I just think before we go any further with this you should talk to your dad.”

“Haha, very funny,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and moving to walk past Derek into the house.

Derek catches his arm to stop him.  “I’m being serious.  If we’re going to do this, you need to tell him.”

“We didn’t tell him about the first one.”

“That was the test run. It’s different if this is actually going to be a thing.”

“We’ll tell him once we figure out where we’re going with—”

“Stiles, you’re seventeen. I’m twenty-three. It’s a fairly small town. People talk.  Your dad is the sheriff, and he knows more than one way to kill us both.”

Derek can tell Stiles wants to argue, but he can’t seem to conjure up a good comeback.  There’s not one really. The sheriff has been nothing but supportive of the pack, and he doesn’t deserve having secrets kept from him.  Stiles sighs in resignation.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Before Thursday.”

“Yes, before Thursday. I’ll talk to him tonight.  He’ll be off by the time I get home.”

Derek nods.  Stiles shoves him playfully.

“Don’t look so worried,” Stiles says.  “He likes you, dude. It’ll be fine—probably.”

“Just give me a heads up if he grabs the wolfsbane on the way out the door,” Derek teases, but it comes out a little more serious than he means it to.

 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles greets as he walks in.  “How was work?”

“Work was fine,” the sheriff replies with a suspicious look—and yeah, okay, maybe the exuberance behind that greeting was a little overzealous.  “You want to talk about something?”

“Um, yeah, and I just—it’s about me and Derek.”

“Alpha/second stuff? I thought that’d been going pretty well lately?”

“Yeah, it has. This is—uh—I kind of—I kind of want to date him?” 

The sheriff lets out a short burst of laughter.  “Very funny.  Nice ice-breaker distraction topic.  What’re we _really_ discussing? Are you trying to get out of that college prep meeting? Because—”

“No, Dad.  I’m serious.”

Stiles watches with a growing sense of apprehension his dad’s jaw clenches and his gaze hardens.

“Stiles, if this is a joke—”

“Oh my Gooood, no it’s not a joke. We want to date. Take me seriously for two seconds please.”

“Let me get this straight: ‘we’ want to date? As in not only do you, my _seventeen-year-old_ son want to date Derek Hale, but he, a _twenty-three-year-old_ man wants to date you?!”

“I’ll be eighteen this summer. The age difference isn’t that big of a—”

“What the _hell_ are you thinking? He is _six_ years older than you, Stiles! I know I let you get by with a lot these days, but in what scenario did you think I was ever going to let my high school kid date a—”

“You know Derek, remember? You _like_ Derek. You call Derek family.”

“I do like Derek.  He’s done an excellent job with the pack this past year, but that doesn’t mean I want you dating him.”

“Dad, _come on._ We hang out enough that this isn’t even that big a leap from normal. We’re already close. We’re pack. We—”

“Wait, is this a pack thing?” his dad demands, a new level of alarm creeping into his voice.  “Is this something to do with you being the second? Because I can go along with a lot of the werewolf stuff and the powers and the bonding and things but whatever _this_ is that makes you think you have to date him is not okay Stiles. Just because he’s an alpha doesn’t mean—”

“Seriously? You’re seriously trying to say he’d pull the alpha card to get me to _date_ him? You’re  blaming the fact that I’m in a pack? What the hell dad?” Stiles demands, genuinely offended.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t jump to the werewolf explanations, but the answer is still no.”

 “Dad—”

“It’s just not going to happen, Stiles.”

 “ _Dad_ —”

“No. Absolutely not. That’s final. End of discussion.”         

“What discussion? You didn’t even let me—”

“The. Answer. Is. No.”

The hard look on his father’s face makes it abundantly clear that there’s no use continuing the argument.  Stiles seethes.  He hadn’t exactly expected his father to love the idea, but he hadn’t expected a freak out like this.  Derek’s not some random guy Stiles met in a seedy bar or something. He’s _Derek._ He at least deserves a chance.

Stiles retreats angrily to his room.  He plops down on the bed and pulls out his phone to call Derek.

“Should I be running?” Derek asks jokingly.

“Maybe,” Stiles replies glumly.

“That bad?”

“Dude, he barely let me get in a word edgewise.  He said no in practically every possible arrangement without venturing into other languages.”

“Oh.”

“I was kind of expecting him to demand another awkward talk with you—like when I was joining the pack—and then ya know the whole show of setting rules or something.  I mean the man handled the I-want-to-join-a-werewolf-pack confession smoothly enough, but with this he just went into total unreasonable-dad-mode and freaked.”

“He’s your dad. It’s his job.”

“Yeah, well. It sucks.” There’s a beat or two of silence before Stiles asks, “So what now?”

“We’ll see,” Derek replies. “We’ll work on it.”

“I’m eighteen in two months,” Stiles reminds him, “worst case, scenario we could just—”

“No.”

“No?”

“He’s your dad, Stiles.”

“And he’s being an idiot.”

“We’ll work on it,” Derek repeats. 

Stiles huffs. “I don’t think there’s much point in trying to get him to see reason tonight. I’ll see how things are looking tomorrow.”

 

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Derek’s been staring at his phone for a good ten minutes this morning trying to decide whether or not to call the sheriff. He’s run through the dozen ways the conversation could go, but every concocted conversation sounds cheesier than the last.  He knows the sheriff is trying to be a good parent, and no father in his right mind would say yes to this immediately.  The thing is, this isn’t a normal situation.  Stiles has been in more incredibly dangerous situations in the past year or so than most people are in a lifetime.  He knows what it’s like to make real life-and-death decisions.  He’s not a naïve kid anymore.

_Not that arguing with the sheriff about that is going to make him any more likely to let this happen.  In fact, he’d probably start pointing out that several of those life-threatening situations were because of me._

In the end, Derek goes for a drive, cranking the music and driving a little too fast, his usual trick to get his mind off things.  He drives aimlessly for a while and doesn’t realize where he intends to end up until he’s parked on the street outside the Stilinski house.  The sheriff’s cruiser is in the drive; he’s home. 

Derek sits in the car a few moments more, staring at the house.  He doesn’t want to do this—doesn’t want to talk to the sheriff and feel like an idiot trying to prove himself or something.  He wants to leave it to Stiles to convince his father dating Derek wouldn’t be so bad. He starts the ignition and puts the car in drive but almost immediately shuts it off again.

 _Suck it up, buttercup,_ he tells himself, but the words still sound like Stiles’ in his head. 

He gets out of the car and practically charges at the house, hoping to reach the door before he can think better of it.  He rings the doorbell, and he can hear the Sheriff mute the TV and walk to answer it.  When he takes in the sight of Derek on the porch, Derek swears the sheriff is resisting the urge to punch him in the face.  The alpha in him wants to respond to the challenge and return the glare, but the rational portion of his brain knows that reaction won’t get him anywhere.  He forces himself to keep calm—to keep the human side on the surface.

“Derek,” the sheriff greets.

“Sheriff,” Derek replies.  “Look, I know you probably don’t want to talk to me,” Derek says, “but I thought maybe you’d hear me out anyway.”

The sheriff crosses his arms.  “Okay. Fine.  Say what you came to say.”

Derek tries not to seem hurt when he realizes he’s not going to be invited in. It shouldn’t matter so much, but this is the man who says Derek is family—apparently that status changed as soon as it came to light that Derek wants to date the man’s underage son.  This is an even colder reception than when Derek was trying to get him into the pack.  Apparently pack dynamics the sheriff can roll with but six-year-age-difference relationships are something else altogether.

_Shit. What if this overshadows everything with the pack? He’s not going to want Stiles around me now—around us._

The thought of Stiles place in the pack being messed with sends an unexpectedly sharp jolt of fear and anger through Derek. He wants to lash out, but he doesn’t.

_If I can keep my shit together surrendering to a pack of alphas, I can keep my temper for this conversation and not piss him off—well not piss him off any more than he already is._

 “I understand why you would be concerned about Stiles dating someone so much older.”

“I’m pretty sure _anyone_ could understand that,” the sheriff replies tetchily.

 _Don’t rise to the argument. Don’t._   _You didn’t come here to argue with him; you came because of Stiles._

“Yes, sir, of course,” Derek replies respectfully.  Something in the sheriff’s gaze softens at the response; Derek takes that as a good sign and continues, “He’s a lot younger than me, and I get that.  You already know I’ll do everything I can to protect Stiles.  I just want you to know that if we were together—dating—I wouldn’t ever push Stiles to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, and the—the physical side of it would be at a pace Stiles sets—entirely age-appropriate.  This isn’t about that stuff—I mean that’s not why I want to date your son.”

“So explain to me why you do,” the sheriff says, still on the offensive, but slightly less hostile. 

Here’s the part Derek can’t figure out how to say exactly.  There’s a long list of reasons he wants to try to be with Stiles. He thinks for a moment of just rattling through the rambling list, but instead all he says is, “You know him even better than I do. You know the kind of person he is. You don’t find people like Stiles every day.”

The sheriff nods his agreement. 

“And even if you don’t change your mind, if you don’t want him to be with me, I can respect that, but don’t let this affect his place in the pack.  I’ll keep my distance if you’re not comfortable with us dating, but the pack _needs_ Stiles.”

The sheriff considers Derek’s words; his face isn’t giving anything away.  Derek can’t help fidgeting just a little under the evaluative stare. 

Finally the sheriff sighs. “I wouldn’t keep him away from his pack,” he concedes.

 “Good,” Derek says, forcing a small smile. “I appreciate that.”

“As for the rest—he’s _seventeen._ You said yourself you understand why I’d be concerned.”

“All due respect, Sheriff.  He may be seventeen, but he hasn’t been a kid for a long time.”

The statement causes a shift in the sheriff’s face Derek can’t quite read.  There’s a long pause between them before Derek takes a step back toward his car.

“Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Derek,” the sheriff says, and Derek turns.  “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Derek replies, determinedly keeping a victorious grin off his face—it’s not an approval, but it’s still a step closer.

 

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“In here, Stiles,” the sheriff calls when he walks through the door after school.

Stiles follows the voice to the kitchen table.  He got Derek’s text about coming to talk to his dad—still can’t quite believe Derek did—and he’s assuming he’s about to see just how effective that gesture was.

“We need to talk about this.”

“You actually going to let me talk this time?” Stiles asks, realizing too late that a smartass response isn’t the best idea at the moment.

His dad doesn’t rise to the statement, just glares at him.  “Sit,” he says.

There’s a pack of cookies sitting on the table—peace offering?—and Stiles takes one as he sits.  He waits for his dad to continue the conversation. It’s clear he’s got a direction planned out.

“Tell me why you want to date Derek. Make me understand what the hell’s going through your head so we can be on the same page here.”

Stiles explains briefly how the topic even came up, then continues explaining with, “and once the idea was there it just wouldn’t go away. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I mean, as far back as last year with the alpha pack, I said I was just trying to protect the pack by saving the alpha, but I wouldn’t have done that for Peter if he was the alpha; I did it because it was _Derek_.  I’m second because I work so well with _Derek_ —our pack bond is stronger than any of the others.  With those hunters in the woods, my magic spiked to protect _Derek_.  He took arrows to protect me.  It just—we need each other, and not just with the attack stuff like that.”

“I know he’s been a good friend, Stiles, but that doesn’t mean you need to date him.”       

“Yeah, he’s a good friend but I want more than that, Dad. This isn’t just something I’d do on a whim.  We’re putting the whole pack dynamic at a potential disadvantage to give this a shot because we both think this might actually work.   I can’t explain _why_ exactly. I’m honestly still figuring it out myself. I just know there’s something there, and, if I don’t give it a try while I have the chance I know I’m going to regret it. You don’t get a chance to date guys like Derek every day.  He’s been through hell on more than one occasion, and he doesn’t give up. He’s just—” _amazing, brave, stubborn, broken, strong, loyal, infuriating, determined,_ “he’s Derek.”

Stiles hast his best pleading look on.  He knows his father wanted a more direct answer, but it’s the best Stiles can do.  His father runs a hand down his face and sighs heavily. 

“Call Derek. Invite him for dinner,” he says, rising from the table. 

“Huh?”

“Call Derek, and invite him for dinner,” his dad repeats. “At six,” he adds.

“Are you saying we can—”

“We’ll talk more then.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles replies.  “Um—I can get stuff for supper.  Want me to? I don’t have much homework.”

“Sure.”

“What d’you want?”

“Something simple.”

“Spaghetti?”

"Yeah, that’s fine.”

He can tell by the tone in his dad’s voice that he’s not really paying attention to this conversation. His mind’s focuses on something else. Stiles hopes that’s on how to lay ground rules for dating and not how to completely forbid it from ever happening.   

As he grabs his keys from his bag and heads out the door, Stiles can’t help feeling hopeful.  It wasn’t the best conversation they’ve ever had, but at least his dad heard him out.

_Surely if he was just going to forbid it again he wouldn’t invite Derek over._

Stiles texts Derek the invitation to dinner, praying he’s right.

 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“So,” the sheriff says as they all finish eating. 

He immediately gets both Derek and Stiles’ attention.  Dad’s barely said a word, leaving Stiles and Derek to fill the awkward silences with slightly forced conversation about everything from the Mets current winning streak to the weather forecast. 

“Yeah?” Stiles urges,

_Come on, Dad. This is not the time for dramatic pause!_

“I still don’t like the idea of this,” he says grimly, and Stiles feels a sense of dread start building up in his chest, “ _but,”_ the sheriff continues, “if we lay down some ground rules, then you two can have a few dates to see how it goes.”

Stiles grins over at Derek, and Derek returns the smile cautiously.

 “Okay, Dad, name your terms,” Stiles says.

“First, I’d like to remind you that the entire town is filled with people who are only too thrilled to comment on how I’m raising my son, so if the rules are broken, I _will_ find out.”

“Right—town filled with spies; that’s a given,” Stiles replies.

“Secondly, I’ve been a little lax on the curfew up to this point, but it is now firmly reinstated.  10:30 on school nights. Midnight otherwise.”

“Okay,” Stiles replies quickly and Derek nods in agreement 

“There will be no more spending the night at the pack house with Derek.”

Stiles opens his mouth to protest but thinks better of it.  Instead, he nods his acquiescence along with Derek. 

“And just to be perfectly clear, Derek will not be spending the night here either.  And in this house you will not be in any room with the door shut.”

“Dad,” Stiles begins to protest, but shuts his mouth when met with a ‘just try me’ face from his father.  “Okay, fine. Yeah. Open doors. Not a problem. Sorry.”

_Makes me feel like am untrusted kid, but no problem._

“And, on the whole, the physical side of this relationship—”

“Oh, my God, Dad, we do not have to talk about this right now.” _Not in front of Derek. Jeez, we’ve barely kissed. I’d like to at least get a second chance at that before I fucking die of embarrassment._

“Oh, yes we do,” his dad replies firmly.  “The physical side of this relationship will move at an _excruciatingly_ slow pace,” he insists.  “I’m talking _glacial._ Do I make myself abundantly clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Derek replies.

Stiles wants to laugh at seeing Derek so nervous and serious.  It’s kind of adorable, not that he’d ever say that out loud—he prefers his limbs attached to his body—and it distracts him from just how awkward and annoying this conversation is. 

“Stiles?” his dad says.  “You understand me?”

“Yeah, Dad. Got it.  Glacial pace.  We can do that.”

For a second or two it looks like his dad is considering calling the whole arrangement off—maybe claiming temporary insanity—but he doesn’t.  He nods approval instead.

“Okay then.”

“Okay?” Stiles repeats.

“Okay,” his dad confirms.  “Don’t make me regret it.”

“We won’t,” Stiles and Derek assure him in unison.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading, and thanks so much to all of you who've left comments! :) 
> 
> Stay tuned for an epilogue of sorts in the next day or so :) 
> 
> boring timeline clarification: Yes, Stiles is two months shy of 18, but if you remember back to part 1 the epilogue was his 17th birthday. My head canon puts Stiles as one of those kids who has the summer birthdays and his parents could either put him in school or wait an extra year, and they apparently waited making him one of the older kids in his class.


	9. Epilogue(ish)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff--this is so sweet you might have to brush your teeth--you've been warned.
> 
> Sorry I'm not sorry, but you'll miss this when the angst sets in for Part 4 :)

They’re out on the preserve in the same spot he and Scott used to come to get wasted.   It’s nothing special really. They end up here on a lot of their dates.  The view of the sky is fantastic, and Stiles has always been a sucker for star-gazing.  Lying back, one of Derek’s arms behind his shoulder, Stiles thinks absentmindedly that he wouldn’t mind if this kind of night lasted forever. 

Then he realizes he actually means it.  

It’s not necessarily the place or the night itself.  It’s just this overwhelming contentedness he gets in these little in-between moments that happen without either of them really trying.  The calm that comes with just being in each other’s company, and that this calm can always manage to block out the craziness of whatever else might be going on. 

It’s been two months, and it’s way too early to say it out loud—Derek would freak for sure—but _holy shit I’m falling in love with Derek Hale._

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

The memory isn’t terrible, just a tiny ache in his chest.  It’s just a twinge really compared to some of the worse ones.  They pack’s getting ice cream after pack dinner.  They go to the ice cream shop down on the square, and there’s a group sitting outside: a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with two smaller kids, looking as though babysitting them is the last way on earth he wants to spend his Friday night.  It takes Derek back to all those nights he got stuck on babysitting duty with Madison and Alex—how much he’d _hated_ having to take his turn at watching them and how now he would give anything to be stuck back there just _one_ more time.  He wants to shake the kid and make him understand how lucky he is. 

Stiles’ hand finds Derek’s, and Derek turns to look at him.  Stiles gives him a small, slightly worried smile, but it’s gone the next second before anyone else can see it.   He’s always careful when he catches Derek in a memory like that—Derek still doesn’t know how Stiles has gotten so good at spotting the moments—he doesn’t ever react enough to draw attention.  At first he’d thought it was just coincidence, but then it began happening without fail—like Stiles had a sixth sense for it.  It isn’t surprising really, Derek is getting better and better at reading Stiles too.

What _is_ surprising is how Stiles notices the moments but it doesn’t ever make Derek feel pitied or weak or fucked up or ridiculous; having him slip his hand in Derek’s just makes Derek feel safe _._ No one else can do that.

And Derek does feel safe with Stiles. He trust Stiles almost completely—as completely as he thinks he’ll ever be able to trust anyone.  He never wants this feeling to go away—the feeling of having someone who can see his weaker moments and not exploit them but help him take those moments of brokenness in stride. 

_Don’t be an idiot.  You’ve only been with him a few months. You can’t already be falling for him._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading! Hope you've enjoyed Part 3!
> 
> General notes: 
> 
> Part 4 is in the works; We'll get some more crossover (finally!) :) no estimates yet for posting times. We'll just see how it goes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And a special shout out to those of you who've stuck with me all along the way! I'd have quit a long time ago if not for you guys.
> 
> As always, if you ever want to pry into my head canon or anything, feel free to comment, look me up at packdontendwithblood on tumblr, or shoot an email to arebutvagueshadows@gmail.com. I quite enjoy talking with people.


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